Love My Way
by Fan.Sea.Pants
Summary: A love story of things left unsaid.
1. The End

**The End**

**~(O)~**

At last, peace and quiet.

Long gone were youthful days, of utter happiness, of endless sadness and everything in between. Finally it was just the two of them.

Maybe it took too long to reach this moment, this still, quiet moment. Yes, in reality they were surrounded by an inglorious amount of material wealth – truthfully they liked it that way. But who knew that the two lovers saw something beyond all of this.

That each other's presence was all that was needed to be truly satisfied.

At that moment, that still, quiet moment, they sat on an exceedingly plush sofa and watched the sun set over the priceless ocean horizon. The pale blue sky was being replaced by a blanket of eager stars and last of the sunrays fought for their place in the sky.

He took her hand and smiled. She sighed in unreserved contentment. Despite their rather pompous values accumulated over the years, they finally realised what it felt like to have everything even if they had nothing.

She squeezed his hand and turned her fragile head weakly towards him. And as if he could read her mind, he turned his too.

She held his hand, he held her hand… He blinked, She blinked…. She smiled, he smiled… He closed his eyes, she closed her eyes….

They closed their eyes.

At that moment, that still, quiet moment. As the last of the glorious rays departed into the vast space of the unknown, Zack and London closed their eyes and fell into a peaceful and ceaseless sleep. Forever, at last.

**~(O)~**


	2. The Beginning

**The Beginning**

**~(O)~**

There was no beginning - none in the sense of a definite start anyway. Instead, he had found himself in a rather inconvenient position.

He was halfway there before he realized.

Maybe that was their beginning... For him anyway.

He bobbed his head to the soft beats of the barely audible music. His golden locks, now in a fashionable and neat trim bounced in an effortless motion.

There was a hazy dusk out, which only added to the atmosphere of aristocratic grandeur in front of her favorite restaurant. Hardly mysterious but to those excluded, a place that signified the top.

But she had no clue... And after years and years she still never figured it out - their beginning, that is.

Maybe if he thought hard enough could remember it. A temperate autumn wind whispered through his ear causing him to sigh and breath in the smoky murky air. He couldn't understand it - he couldn't speak wind for god's sake. He raised his eyebrow and tried to return to his pool of thoughts. But he could only wade so far, for so long; the shallow end was far to extended.

Zack did not want to think that dates were their beginning. Not even the first time they held hands. Or the first time kissed. Or last time they were merely called "just friends".

He liked to think that they began distances before that. That somehow it was meant to be. Always was, and always will be. Not to say he thought they were star crossed lovers because - well - that seemed too pretentious even for himself to even think.

He smiled privately as he thought of seeing her tonight. Of course he loved her for who she was inside but who was he kidding if he didn't admit that her beauty was what had caught his notice in the first place. Yes, he wanted to see her. He wanted to see his beautiful London.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and allowed his head to settle down. She could be as late as she wanted. Just as long as she came. He wasn't worried at all that 2 hours had passed. He knew she was there - somewhere - but with him all the same.

And so, in passing, he shook the thought out of his head and twiddled the black velvet cube in his hand. Another beginning? No. Just a continuation.

He shifted his weight over to his other leg. All he knew to do was keep going forward, keep going and never stop. So what if he got lost along the way. At least he was together with her.

He shrugged his shoulders. It was plain and simple. There was no beginning - there will be no end.

A playful nudge awoke him from his state of perplexity. He looked up and was overcome by the presence of London Tipton. She smiled proudly as she twirled in her newest dress.

There she was, right next to him. Always was and always will be.

**~(O)~**


	3. Summer Scorched

**Summer Scorched**

**~(O)~**

The sharp rays of the sun pierced through her tanned skin as the suffocating warmth of the air called her unwilling body to perspire. But of course, she, being London Tipton, did not bow down to such common behaviour. No – she refused to sweat. Despite the full heat of the day bearing down – heat that made ice cold, rainy days wistful and fond memories – she was determined to be outside.

She rested her delicate arms on the wrought iron balustrades of her hotel room balcony as she stared blankly into the vast unknown. Distances of sky remained cloudless and open. The air was still, so she was a little upset that the wind was not blowing her designer summer dress, as it had done on the catwalk only days ago.

Not too long after, she removed her arms swiftly when a searing pain pulsed through her. She pulled back and rubbed them not knowing what to do. She couldn't go inside. No she couldn't. The summer heat could not compare to what she felt in there.

She glanced through the clear doors and looked into the quiet hotel room. She could almost feel the resonating cool air coming from the air conditioners. How she yearned to be in there – but no! She was determined.

She wrapped her arms around herself but again, too soon, found herself warming up. She paced around and pouted her lips. That's it! She couldn't hold herself any longer. If only to prove she were human, she latched onto the sliding door handle and tugged it. A small puff of arctic air brushed past her skin, causing her tingle in delight. She couldn't take it anymore.

She slammed the door open and as quickly as she did do, she shut it again. Immediately, her body seemed to breath and relax. Maybe it wasn't that bad. Maybe it was all in her imagination. Why did she even consider banishing herself to those arid conditions?

She walked over to the large and elegantly furnished living room. She went slowly, so that her body could soak in the refreshing atmosphere.

Then, like an unforgiving heat wave, it hit her.

Like a thousand summer suns exploding inside her, her temperature rose. All the coldness collected from the air-conditioned air, condensed and melted away. And as if the world had had enough of her antics and turned against her, drops of sweat began forming around her forehead.

Now she remembered why she was outside. Why she couldn't let herself in.

There Zack lay, as still as a broken electric fan. The air conditioners weren't working for him so he lay there, shirtless. All he could do to survive the heat of the day was sleep.

London had the sudden urge to pounce on him.

**~(O)~**


	4. Adagio Autumn

**Adagio Autumn**

**~(O)~**

Crunch…

An autumns' day. The ship was long docked yet they had only just begun. The air was fresh and the sky was clear. The symphonic colours of proud reds and oranges, majestic yellows and gold and struggling greens invaded their eyesight. However, imposing as they were, they could only feel that rare sensation of… calmness.

Crunch…

The sounds of crackling leaves entered their ears. Each heavy step was wrought with the destruction of the fallen fronds into oblivion. They waded through the mass slowly, amazed at the beauty of the inevitable demise – the green leaf so filled with sunshine, now so yellow. So yellow. As if the sun had consumed it and taken over.

Crunch…

That sound which resonated through the atmosphere. That sound of the leaf's final goodbye. Its swan song, so haunting and too fragile. Goodbye… It may have said… Do not forget me… It must have uttered… I will return… It cried with all its might.

Crunch…

The sound of his heart. He kneaded his chest to calm it down but it was no use. Each quaking beat constricted his heart tighter and tighter. It was being taken over. A tingling rush had infiltrated his very veins, a million emotions – of confusion, of admiration, of pain, of ecstasy, of gluttony, of love, of fear. Mostly fear. Fear that if he looked her way, she wouldn't notice… or worse… that she did. It was taking over… It _had_ taken over.

Crunch…

The sound of her heart was masked by each step. She was not ashamed of it, no. Instead, she was afraid that the one it had been calling might hear it, hear it then wish it away. Yet, her heart was calling. It was calling as loud as it could. Would she listen to it, each beat, or would she let it pass and echo beyond understanding? She didn't know… but her heart did… and it was calling with all its might.

Crunch…

An autumns' day. Long had they felt this way, but they had only just begun. Calm was the wood. Calm was their walk. And even though symphony of emotions played and danced and danced and celebrated. Commanding as they were, by and large they could only feel that rare sensation of… calmness.

Silence…

They stopped walking. And he looked her way, and she, to he… And her mouth parted, and he heard heart.

**~(O)~**


	5. West of Winter

**West of Winter**

****~(O)~****

It was cold, it was dark and they were hungry. The only sound they could hear was incessant fall of the water droplets onto the merciless concrete floor. They never missed their cue, unrelenting and masterful, the droplets wrought a slow and painful torture.

To say this was not ideal on a snowing Christmas Eve would be the understatement of the century. Only one floor above was a massive Christmas feast - the annual Tipton staff party. Zack could only imagine the clattering of kitchen utensils that rung in tune with the carollers and the jittery movement of workers as they made pot roast and warm apple pudding. Klink, ching, shimmer. His head shot up as he heard the rustle of movement.

His moment of salvation left as quickly as it came and he was greeted with a bitter glare from his fellow captive.

London moved her arms so that they could cover her exposed shoulders. The mass of bangles and accessories sashayed with every rustle. Miraculously, they reflected what little light made it through the grating keyhole. Klink, ching and shimmer. She would have given him the tantrum of the year if her mouth weren't numb from the frost.

How they landed in this position was all to clear, but they were to cold to blame one another.

Maybe if they were closer it wouldn't have been that bad.

But they were only good buddies at the best of times.

Hardly friends.

_Obviously._

London scrunched her eyebrows and Zack swore he heard her humph though her icy blue lips. He sniggered to himself. The heiress of heiresses herself helplessly stuck with Zack 'the troublemaker' Martin.

Truth be told, she wasn't that bad. And maybe, just maybe, if they lived to another Christmas, they could be friends.

Shimmer, ching, klink. London restlessly shuffled again.

Yes! That was it! He would make her his friend, he thought with frozen resolve. You never know when you needed a key pass to all the rooms anyway. In that cold little closet, away from the warmth of the fireplace, hidden from the soft glow of snowflakes, Zack took it upon himself to befriend the unfriendable.

He processed his thoughts and realised what he had almost uttered.

All to soon, his frozen body reached its breaking point and he erupted like never before.

As if spitting out a mouthful of water, Zack exploded into a fit of laughter. His runners swished as he tried to steady himself. The malicious water droplets suddenly lost their power.

_London Tipton friends with Zack Martin_. Now that was a headline.

London's mouth hung open and she stared bug eyed as her companion finally descended into lunacy. He clung onto his stomach as the laughter invaded his system. It was inevitable. She could only hope that she too would give in soon. It was lonely being sane. And frozen. And hungry.

From his back pocket he pulled out a pair of gangly gloves, as he took a break from his fit. And for reasons that will never reach the light of day, they smelled like a mix of cinnamon and burned tomatoes. He shoved them towards London.

There was no other choice. Her nails wouldn't last in the frozen dry air any longer. London grudgingly seized the gloves and put them on. Her bangles moved as she did. Chime, shimmer, clink. She could almost feel the smirk playing on his lips and he resumed his laughter. Zack shifted over to London's corner.

He couldn't help feel concerned for his future friend. He sat next to her, and continued to giggle to himself.

Maybe it wasn't that cold…

But they were still hungry.

**~(O)~**


	6. Suite Spring

**Suite Spring**

****~(O)~****

"Hey, sweet thang, I'm Zack," he said in the most macho and confident voice he could muster. He held out his sweaty hand, in hopes to make contact with his new found crush. She was taller and prettier and smelled better than any other girl he had ever encountered. He had only been in the hotel for two days, but could you blame the guy?

Love was not forced, no, never forced. It was this sort of thing where BAM...

Then you were a goner.

_Sickly sweet dreams of candy filled picnics, among the cool green grass during a pleasantly warm day. The scent of newly blossomed flowers danced on their nosed and the tree fronds shimmered in the light. The rabbits a-hopping – the birds a-singing – the deers a-dancing…_

_NO WAY!_ Zack, coughed. Yuck! He would never such girlish daydreams!

But before the blonde candy counter girl could introduce herself, Zack's extended arm was swept to the side, flying through the air with total lack of grace. In the hustle and bustle, Zack found himself tripping backwards. The only thing making his acquaintance was the plush red carpet of the grand lobby floor.

Oh, the perils of young love.

The offender immediately stopped walking and without hesitation she turned around with the flare and dignity one had as an heiress.

Confused, he stepped back, but found the necessary courage to look her in the eye and wince. _What the he- _but he didn't finish the thought in case his mother could read his thoughts. Mothers knew best – as they say.

"London," she looked at the short boy for a second, barely processing his presence. Then went back to texting.

Zack snorted and made a note to self to watch out for that so called 'London'. He dusted himself of and ran back to the candy counter.

**~(O)~**

**D.C. al fine**


End file.
